


Drinking to Forget

by neggsi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neggsi/pseuds/neggsi
Summary: “Isn’t it a little late to be drowning yourself in alcohol like that?”The question was rhetorical, but McCree, caught red handed with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his prosthetic hand, simply shrugged and took another burning mouthful.“S’what if it is?” the younger man drawled.For Gaybe on the McHanzo Discord for the Valentine's Gift Exchange





	Drinking to Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, McCree's accent is heavy here. I figured drinking would make it much more pronounced than usual! Enjoy <3

“Isn’t it a little late to be drowning yourself in alcohol like that?”

The question was rhetorical, but McCree, caught red handed with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his prosthetic hand, simply shrugged and took another burning mouthful. The cowboy hadn’t heard Hanzo approach, though he could blame the mixture of intoxication and the archer’s years of training for that. Now that he had noticed the other presence in the room though, McCree looked over his shoulder from the couch see Hanzo bathed in the artificial light from the hallway as he stood in the doorway of the otherwise abandoned living area.

“S’what if it is?” the younger man drawled, squinting suspiciously at the man in front of him. Did he have to just stand there in the light like that? It would have almost seemed angelic if the hallway light hadn’t been so blindingly bright. Instead, the cowboy’s head began to sting in what was surely a premonition of the hangover he would wake up with the next morning.

Hanzo seemed to frown at the retort, although with his expression usually bitter McCree couldn’t actually tell if he was actually frowning or if his mind was playing tricks on him. “Perhaps… now is not the best time after all,” the archer said hesitantly. It didn’t take a former Blackwatch agent to see the hesitation in his eyes, like Hanzo had something he wanted to talk about but was already considering fleeing.

McCree waved the archer inside the room, setting his whiskey bottle on the ground to show that Hanzo had his full attention. “Naw, I’m alright. My shit c’n wait,” he promised, and so the archer gave in and walked to sit beside his teammate. Amber eyes followed the archer, perhaps too eagerly, as he slipped into the spot on the couch closest to McCree. The cowboy swore he could feel his heart swell just at the proximity, and he silently wished he could take another swig of alcohol to help ignore the distraction.

As Hanzo made himself comfortable, close but not quite touching the cowboy, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “You do realise that you are allowed to talk through your problems with me, right?” he asked, completely ignoring McCree’s offer to listen. “I thought I had made it obvious that I consider us... friends… And, that means I am available to talk to, if you wish.”

That… wasn’t at all what McCree had expected. He could feel his cheeks heating up in surprised embarrassment, and he quickly attempted to pull his trusty hat over his face to hide the glow. When he discovered that his hat was nowhere in sight, the cowboy quickly resigned to hanging his head so that chestnut locks could hide his face. Trust Hanzo Shimada to make his heart race when he’d been drinking to forget those feelings in the first place.

“I appreciate that,” McCree mumbled, refusing to meet the gaze he could feel questioning him. “I just… don’t know if I can talk about it right now.”

Hanzo gave a sigh, the kind McCree had heard him give his younger brother when the two of them got into an argument. It was a hopeless sigh, that seemed to drag the regal Shimada’s whole body down just a little. McCree peeked through the gaps in his messy hair to see Hanzo looking straight at him, with sharp eyes full of understanding and unrest.

The two stayed in silence for a while, gazes meeting with pools of questions that gave the tipsy cowboy ridiculous amounts of butterflies. Or maybe he was just going to be sick. He honestly couldn’t tell.

When Hanzo looked away, his expression had grown fond, though still a touch sad. “When Genji was a teenager, I often found him doing this,” the eldest Shimada commented, clearly lost in memories of his youth. Those were the days he missed the most, simply because (from what Genji had told him) those were the days the brothers were the closest. “He’d climb the highest tree in the castle grounds and just drink the night away, until I came out and forced him to go to bed. It wasn’t especially easy, but even drunk Genji was at least capable of climbing back down a tree. He never spoke about what bothered him either.”

Guilt clenched at McCree’s heart as he listened. In that moment, all he wanted to do was pull Hanzo into his arms, stroke his hair and babble about every little thing that had ever bothered him, just so the archer could feel trusted by him. When he realised his body was acting on his impulse – his hand lifted to reach for Hanzo’s shoulder – he quickly pulled back and ran said hand through his hair instead. Not the best idea, considering it was his prosthetic, and his hair snagged in some of the spaces between metal joints, but a quick tug and he was free, albeit a little sore from pulling strands of hair from his own head.

Instead of babbling and revealing his woes, knowing full well that if he uttered anything about love for the man beside him he’d likely lose the best friend he’d ever had on base, McCree decided to respond with a memory of his own. “Do you remember when we first spoke? I mean, outside of that awkward introduction we had while Genji showed you around base?”

The huff of a half-hearted laugh came from Hanzo’s direction, but he didn’t turn to look. “If I remember correctly, you came to warn me not to hurt my brother again,” he stated. It should have been a sour path, but it looked like there was amusement twinkling in Hanzo’s eyes.

“Well… yeah, but instead you were up on the darn _roof_ , drinking away the rest of the day,” McCree reminded him, finding himself smiling at the memory. “An’ I said; ‘didn’tcha know it’s dangerous to drink on the roof?’”

“’Didn’t you know it’s dangerous to follow an assassin up to his vantage point?’” Hanzo responded easily, making it clear that his own memory of the conversation was just as fresh.

“’Didn’tcha know it’s _rude_ to steal someone else’s drinking spot?’” McCree said with a laugh. Finally, Hanzo looked at him, and it was enough to quite literally knock the air out of the cowboy’s lungs. The fond, grateful smile Hanzo gave him was something to be protected at all costs. If McCree were to die in that moment, and that smile was the last thing he’d seen, well… he’d have died a happy man.

“Is your point supposed to be that we both have drinking problems, or that we both tend to drink away our issues?” the archer queried, though there was no bite to his words.

“Naw,” McCree responded easily. Without thinking, he placed a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, and spoke before the sober part of his mind caught up enough to stop him. “I’m just sayin’, we seem t’be good at stopping each other from drinking ourselves to death. Havin’ you around makes me happier.”

It was only when McCree noticed the faint blush on Hanzo’s cheeks at his words that he realised what he was doing. His words sounded like a confession, and the hand he had on the archer’s shoulder almost seemed like an invitation. His mind scrambled, his cheeks burned crimson and he hastily pulled his hand away to take another swig from the bottle he had abandoned earlier. Surely if he drank fast enough, he wouldn’t remember embarrassing himself like he’d just done.

“You are far more drunk than I realised,” Hanzo said, breaking his train of thought. He sounded amused, if anything. When the burn of whiskey faded down his throat, the cowboy looked over to give his friend a look similar to that of a kicked puppy. “If it makes you feel better though, being around you makes me happier too. That… may be why I was looking for you tonight.”

Alcohol in hand, McCree hesitantly raised his eyebrow in a silent question. _Are you going to elaborate?_

Instead, Hanzo placed his hand on McCree’s metal wrist, using his other hand to gently pry the alcohol from his hands. When the cowboy didn’t protest, Hanzo took a swig from the bottle himself. McCree, in all his bewilderment, still managed to gawk in attracted fascination as the archer’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank. His heartbeat sped up again as he remembered just how gorgeous he thought the Shimada actually was.

When the bottle was placed back on the table, Hanzo turned to look at his friend with a newfound determination sparkling in his eyes. “Do you still wish to know what I wanted to speak with you about?” he asked, looking like a man making a risky bet. When McCree was only able to nod dumbly, his tongue twisted by a mixture of alcohol and attraction, Hanzo leaned forward until his nose barely touched the tip of McCree’s. “I wanted to confess that I love you.”

It took a moment of shock, and of searching Hanzo’s gaze for any hint of a lie or amusement, but the archer looked as serious as ever, and McCree’s heart soared. “Darlin’, how do you always seem to know what’s buggin’ me?” he said in an alcohol stenched breath, before leaning in to close the gap.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think on my Tumblr (http://neggsi.tumblr.com/), and if you REALLY liked it feel free to buy me a coffee


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